


Twist

by TiredRazzberry



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy nonsense mostly, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, child birth, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredRazzberry/pseuds/TiredRazzberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glimpses of the couples that never would have been if not for all the chaos of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twist

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights belong to GRRM.

Arya & Gendry—

Gendry was in disbelief as his daughter was handed to him by the midwife. He worried that he might drop or hurt her, the baby girl being such a tiny thing in his arms. She was red all over and whimpering slightly, hardly consoled by the blanket she was wrapped in or her father's large cold hands, and Gendry loved her with all his heart already. He loved her harder than he'd ever loved anything in his whole life. 

This had to be a dream, Gendry thought as he rocked the newborn in his arms and the maester and midwife cleaned up Arya. 

He glanced over at his wife. This had to be a dream, he thought again. 

But the thin scar on Arya’s right cheek, right under her eye, the burn on his left hand and arm, and the many unseen scars they both bore reminded him otherwise. 

He looked down at his daughter, who looked right back at him with bleary eyes, and smiled broadly. 

It was all worth it for this moment, he thought doubtlessly. 

Sansa & Podrick—

They sat in a companionable silence, eating lemoncakes from a tray and skimming over documents as they lay sprawled out on her bed. Sansa was thankful that Podrick was willing to help her with her work. He read letters from bannermen and sorted them into three different piles for her: urgent, facile, and kindling for the fire. Sansa herself was busy reading and replying to the letters in the urgent pile. 

Sansa sneaked a glance at Podrick, feeling his gaze on her for several minutes now. He looked away, blushing, and went back to reading the letter in his hand. Sansa smiled wickedly and set aside her quill, feeling a rare bout of mischievous come upon her. 

She waited until she was sure he wasn't paying close attention to her anymore, and then she pounced. Podrick let out an "oof!" as his lover collided with his back, but he was quick to start giggling with her and rolling around in the sheets until they fell to the floor together in a mirthful heap. There, Sansa invited Podrick into a deep kiss.

When they separated, they started giggling again and Sansa tucked her face into the crook of flushed neck to hide her own red cheeks. 

They were ridiculous, Sansa thought. It was so silly how they acted after everything they'd been through. They should be the last people to be in their positions, the main characters of a song about a Queen and her secret lover the good knight. She couldn't bring herself to truly be that cynical, however. 

After everything they'd been through, they deserved a little song of their own, even if it could only be heard behind closed doors and under the cover of nightfall. 

Jaime & Brienne—

"A shame." Any other man might say when he witnessed his son's defeat at the hands of his little sister in the training yard. 

Always one to stray from societal norms (be that a good or bad thing), Jaime was rather proud of Areta. 

Thad certainly didn't seem to mind being beaten by a girl. No, no, the boy's only qualm was he'd rather be inside, reading or playing Cyvasse with the Prince. 

Above all, Areta was proud of herself, and Jaime would never take that away from his daughter. A girl had enough troubles in this world, he knew, thinking of his children's mothers.

"That's enough, Areta." Brienne called out, and Areta finally ceased her thwacking of her brother with her wooden sword. Areta let out a cheer as she was declared the victor, but she quickly wilted into sulking flower when told practice was over for the day. "Please, Mother. One more match! I don't want to stop until I'm the best!" The little girl implored. 

From across the yard, Brienne shot Jaime an amused look. Jaime crept up behind his daughter and swept her into his arms. Areta squealed with surprise. 

"Come now, my speckled rose," Jaime said, wiping the dirt from Areta's freckled brown cheeks. "Think of poor Thad." Said little boy sent his sister a pleading look from the mud below. Areta contemplated the matter. "I suppose I can let him run off to his books..." She said at last. Thad sprung up from the ground and rushed inside the holdfast. Brienne followed after him, shouting to come back so she could remove his padding and attend to his bruises. Areta laughed in Jaime's arms at her brother's enthusiasm for running away from her. 

Jaime adored his daughter's laugh. He was eternally grateful to the woman who made it possible for him to enjoy it each day.

Wex & Wylla—

The water was freezing cold and Wex was sure they would both be sick in bed tomorrow for it, but he dived straight in with Wylla anyway, causing a huge splash in the harbor. When they came back up, Wylla was laughing and he was grinning. She teased him for being scared to jump at first, and Wex had to admit it wasn’t as bad as he expected. Then she splashed him and he splashed her right back, and then she dunked him under, and he dunked her right back. They carried on like a pair of fools in the icy water for ages, splashing and laughing and racing between piers and docked boats. They didn’t climb out of the water until neither of them could feel their toes properly.

They climbed back up on the docks and gathered their clothes and ran naked all the way back to the keep. Wylla did it laughing the whole time. The few people they crossed paths with probably thought she was a madwoman. 

When they got back, Wylla pulled Wex into her chambers where a fire was roaring. They lied next to it, both still naked, her green hair splayed out around her and a wicked grin on his face as he eyed her up and down. Wylla raised a blond eyebrow at him challengingly. 

Wex crawled towards her, wondering if he would have ever had met a girl as amazing as Wylla Manderly if he never became Theon Greyjoy’s squire. 

Mya & Raynald—

They stayed up late at night, cleaning up the council room after the daily meeting had been adjourned, stacking papers and put them aside and putting quills and pots of ink away. The small council needed to learn to clean up after themselves, Mya thought as she wiped down the table with a wet rag. 

Raynald wrapped his arms around her waist as she did. Mya smiled to herself, but continued wiping as if Raynald was still shuffling papers on the other side of the room. 

She felt his bushy mustache on her neck and she giggled. Conceding defeat, Mya turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

The Westerling heir, the miraculous survivor of the Red Wedding, smiled broadly as he laid her down on the table. Mya had a distant fear about being caught in such a compromising position with the young Lord, but that fear disappeared completely from her mind when Raynald kissed her. A childish part of her wished Mychel Redfort could see her now, but only briefly; the woman in her wondered if she would still be heartbroken over that boy if she hadn’t left the Vale with Sansa and those knights. 

She shrugged it off, instead deciding to focus on more pleasurable things. 

Tyrion & Tysha—

She looked older than she really was and Tyrion couldn’t care less because after all that happened to her because of him, the least he could do was this. He brought her gifts every time he visited, and he always sat and talked to her for hours. He taught her how to play cyvasse so they could play together during his visits. She taught him a card game she learned some years ago from a Braavosi whore. On a few occasions, they even found themselves in her bed. 

But in the end, Tyrion always returned to King’s Landing and left her some gold to take care of herself until his next visit. 

She smiled at him the same way. That was the only thing that didn’t change, and Tyrion’s happy for that, even if each time he saw her he felt like he was being run through. She smiled at him with true affection and care, not at all repulsed by his appearance. He could honestly say that her smiles were what kept him going sometimes, when things were hard in the capital. He always had visits to her little cottage to look forward to, and that made the worst days bearable. 

Being able to be with her again, Tyrion thought, was the best thing that came out of the war for him. 

Rickon & Dorea—

She wielded that morning star well, and Rickon loved her for it. She swung it at him and he blocked the blow with his blade. He took a swipe at her with his sword, but she slipped right out of its path and twirled out of his reach altogether. She was so graceful Rickon could almost believe she was a dancing maiden. But they both knew that on and off the practice field, Dorea was a tigress, a warrior, and certainly not a maiden. 

Eventually, Rickon gave up on actual sparring and just tackled her to the ground, knocking the weapon right out of hands and her breath from her lungs. They laughed and rolled around in the mud, not caring about the whispers and disapproving looks they got from onlookers. When Rorris, the Master at Arms, pried him off of her, Rickon grinned like a maniac at her and winked as he was sent away to continue to training “properly”. She teasingly blew him a kiss as she reentered the keep, morningstar back in hand. Rickon pretended to catch it. 

He faced his new sparring partner, a ward from the Riverlands named Nestor, wondering how he got so lucky to be betrothed to such a wonderful, fearsome woman. 

Robert & Loreza—

Like him, Loreza had never been a healthy child. Like her aunt Elia, she had a poor constitution and never partook in the same love of weaponry and violence as her sisters. For that reason, Robert understood Loreza better than anyone else. He knew the frustration of being too weak to keep up and wanting to be strong but never being able to gain the strength you desired. So when Loreza fell ill within her first week in the Vale after leaving Winterfell, Robert never left her bedside. 

He held his friend and betrothed’s hand as her fever came and went for three whole days. He slept beside her in the same bed and took his meals in her chamber with her so she never had to be alone with strangers. He sang her songs and told her stories Sansa had sung to him and told him when he had been ill as a boy. He hoped they might help her as they did him. They seemed to, because when her fever broke on the fourth day, she thanked him and kissed him for the first time.

Robert was thankful for Sansa’s songs and stories more than ever in that moment.


End file.
